Image via WikipediaOfficers Training School seemed horrible, but looking at it 40 years later I feel like it wasn't that difficult. It was the worst of times - it was the worst of times at that point. There in San Antonio, at Lackland AFB I first learned about "No Pain, No Pain!!" They whittled at my pea sized brain and I resisted. They whittled some more and I fought hard. They fought harder and I caved in and began learning to be a machine.

It took more than Captain Fox and Lieutenant Alfred Truman Parmalee the Fourth to break my spirit. They -and five or six days of "I really, really hate it here", were enough to change my whole way of life. I began to base my existence on fear. I reacted to imperfection with a hellish will. Life was mainly about showing the Air Force that I was made of tougher stuff and that I would show them who would quit. I always felt that this was the beginning of my PTSD. There was no blood and no trauma, but there was a terror of others finding out how scared you were. Bravado started slipping in where mild mannered country boy used to rule. It was at OTS that I was introduced to the military bar. Mixed drinks on Saturday night cost forty-five cents and draft beer was a dime. Booze came in very handy for getting through another week so that we could return to the bar.

Failing at my next step in life at UNT (u something navigator training) added to the misery. I started to come unraveled. Apparently the Air Force was giving me one more chance to become an asset by allowing me to attend missile training. I promised myself that I would pass it with flying colors.

The first part of training was at Chanute AFB; right outside of Rantoul Illinois. Chanute was interesting. It looked like it may have been left over from WWII or Korea. Older buildings, lots of landscaping, etc.,etc. My class of 4 young lieutenants drew the early morning shift - arriving at 6:00 a.m. each weekday and finishing up at noon. I have to say that the curriculum was not the toughest in the world. The real objective of the course seemed to be aimed at informing us that "the pointy end of the missile comes out of the hole first." Four weeks passed quickly and soon I was back in Sacramento packing up to move to Vandenberg AFB for seven more weeks of orientation.

At VAFB, we learned about codes security, basic launch control center operations and some about responding to an Emergency War Order. Mostly we just heard war stories about what it "REALLY" was going to be like. We also learned about the SAC policy that in order to pass a test you had to have everything 100% correct. I was paired up with Captain Walter Hinck who had just finished a year at Osan AFB in Korea as a Security Policeman. He seemed to be OK and very smart. The group was rounded out by John P. Colson and Rich Bender. John and I still converse once in a while.